Where Empty Melodies Sang
by cheeky doggie
Summary: So what if he could no longer remember how to play? He'll learn it, and he'll play it all over again, just to show them he could. He didn't need his memories. [DemyxCentric]


**Where Empty Melodies Sang**

**---**

When he woke up from a horrifyingly realistic dream of moving shadows and glowing eyes, he thought that something was missing.

When he was first approached by a figure in black, and was given a name and a cloak of his own, he felt that something wasn't quite right.

And when Demyx sat in the Hall of Empty Melodies, staring thoughtfully at sheets of music with symbols on them that he couldn't decipher anymore, he thought that something was terribly and utterly out of place.

"Y'know, staring at it ain't gonna make the memories come back."

A smirking redhead looked down at the blond from his position, perched on one of the many windows littered around the hall, before dark tendrils enveloped him and he appeared next to the said blond, a hand held out expectantly.

Obediently, Demyx handed his music over. From his little time in the Organization, he had learnt that submission was the best way to stay in good terms with the others, especially to his superiors.

Axel glanced over the music once with an aloof expression, before depositing them carelessly at Demyx's feet, as if he was never interested in it in the first place.

"Like I said," he remarked off-handedly, throwing an apathetic look over his shoulder at the blond. "Just staring at it ain't gonna make you magically remember what these little dots on sticks mean. Trust me," his eyes were cold, remorseful. "Trying makes it worse."

He made as to leave, but then a quiet, contemplative voice that the Organization had seldom heard for the short time the blond had been with them reached him.

"I'll never remember?" Demyx looked thoughtful. "Is it really as bad as you make it seem?"

Axel gaped at him for a minute, as if he had just suggested that Heartless were cuddly, before his expression turned to one of contempt. "Listen kid, I don't think you understand…"

He trailed off, leaving the silence to hang between them thickly. Despite himself, Axel did not leave, and Demyx did not say a word. Instead, he summoned his weapon, the sitar, and held it in his lap clumsily, as a pianist might hold a violin for the first time, before experimentally plucking a string.

The sound that came out was less than pleasant, and there was a visible wince from both members of the room. Before Axel had the chance to make a snarky remark, Demyx spoke up, sea-green eyes looking downwards.

"So what if I can't remember what these pictures mean? Who cares if I can't even play my sitar right?" Still his head remained bowed towards his sitar.

"What does it matter that I'm not the person that I once was? I don't need my memories; I'll learn it all again! I'll learn so that I'll be able to read the musical notes with ease, so that I can play the right chords and pluck the right strings! I'll do it, I'll show you! Even if…"

Axel watched with a blank expression as the blond spilled out the thoughts that were raging inside of him, looking almost bored, even as Demyx's conviction seemed to drop.

"Even if I'll never remember what it was like to have the music run through my veins, or what it felt like to be able to these songs and melodies." His voice was quiet. "But still, I'll show you all; I don't need my memories to make me who I am now!"

Finally, Demyx lifted his head to look straight at Axel defiantly. The redhead cocked his head, meeting his gaze easily. Jade green eyes stared straight at Demyx, seeing past the confident demeanour, seeing past the flimsy mask, before Axel looked to the side, chuckling humourlessly.

"Fool…" He glanced at Demyx with a disbelieving, almost amused expression. "You can't expect me to believe you _really_ meant that."

And the darkness returned to sweep him away, still chuckling. But no one could miss the look of surprise and (maybe just a little bit of) awe in his eyes and, in the future, he would wonder and cry and he would plead, _why couldn't __**Roxas **__think like that too?_

As he left the hall where empty melodies sang their hollow songs, wherein a man with an empty place where the music once flowed, looking downward with empty eyes, his mask ripped off and his true apathy revealed for the world to see, wondering and questioning himself.

Did he really mean all that he just said?

Or perhaps he just didn't care enough to be able to truly let go.

---


End file.
